


Sanity Is Overrated

by rosenewock21



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosenewock21/pseuds/rosenewock21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setting up for Raf's 18th birthday shouldn't include this much drinking, debauchery, or uncomfortable conversations with one's mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanity Is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dellessa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/gifts), [Camfield](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/gifts).



Title: Sanity Is Overrated   
Verse: Transformers Prime  
Rating: T  
Warnings: Xeno  
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Arcee, Miko/Sari, Optimus/Ratchet/???  
Notes: This prompt kicked my ass. The idea in general flowed, but the first few sentences, and June’s reaction to Arachnid, were a difficult birth.  
Dedicated to: Dellessa, who feeds my muses and listens sympathetically while I bitch about them. And Camfield, who can get me snickering until I can’t breathe by simply saying the name “Frank Welker” or randomly shouting “sex makes babies!”  
Prompt: Melee In March: #19 Trining or Trining It  
Word Count: 2,818  
  
OoOoOo  
  
Even humans who didn’t know of the existence of Cybertronians could tell the difference between the three vehicles entering the Autobot base. The blue motorcycle seemed to purr under the ministrations of the young man riding it. It gave an almost happy sounding rev as it screeched to a halt, the dark haired twenty-something pausing to place a loving kiss between the handles before hopping off.  
  
Almost nipping at the bike’s tailpipe was a green all terrain, the sounds of some homemade club mix blaring and shaking the frame to the rims. The women riding in the backseat tumbled out with all the grace of drunken bar skanks trying to make it to an after hours kegger at some frat house. The first one took two steps forward before tripping over her wedges and falling flat on her face. Her companion leaned against the vehicle, laughing like she was going to burst if she had to hold it in. Unnaturally blue eyes met chocolate as the girl on the ground stuck her tongue out at her laughing companion. Sadly, neither girl was drunk or on any kind of altering substance. No, they were high on life itself; the heady rush of youth and a natural pheromone cocktail that convinced them they would stay this way forever.  
  
“I really hate you sometimes,” the girl on the floor groaned, blowing candy apple hair out of her eyes.  
  
The other danced around her companion, perfectly balancing on her glittery stripper heels. “You totally love me. In fact just last night you were saying...” Her head whipped up in sudden interest. “Oh my god! Bulkhead! Turn that one up. This my jam!”  
  
The music rose, the entire base nearly shaking with the bass, as she pulled her companion up off the floor. The red haired girl had no chance to protest as a set of lips quickly descended on her own. The owner pulled away long enough to grin and sing along with a line of the song. “Watch out ladies, I’m a sex fiend. Since I was sixteen, I make the chicks scream. I’m a playa.”  
  
“Knock it off, ‘playa’. We only have a few hours before Raf will get here and this place needs to be set up,” the young man chastised, making sure to bump the lead troublemaker as he walked past them. Miko gave a high pitched eep as she toppled over, dragging Sari down with her. Both women glared up at him and made a double hand gesture.  
  
The third vehicle pulled up sedately; a nondescript black car, clearly government issue. Clearly out of its element with the shiny bike and the all terrain still bouncing on its axles. The driver fit the car, a pudgy bureaucratic type who looked like his field days were behind him. His passenger was a dark haired woman who might have been a stunner in her younger years. It was easy to see the familial connection between the passenger and the bike rider. They had the same kind yet serious eyes, the same dark hair, and even shared a crooked smile.  
  
The older woman rolled her eyes playfully, having seen the entire encounter from her vantage point. “Ah youth, I feel like I should be wearing some mary janes and a midriff baring baby tee whenever I’m around those two.”  
  
“Tell me you had a pair of indigo jeans with ironic peace sign patches and I may have to ask you out to dinner,” the elder man grinned and whoomphed as he hauled several large bags out of the back of the car.  
  
“Had? Oh Agent Fowler, I’m pretty sure I still have two pairs of them stored in the back of my closet somewhere,” she winked playfully, leaning into the car to grab a few bags of her own.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes, there was something about the proximity of the Autobot base that made his mother believe she was twenty five years younger than she actually was. He tried not to think about it too hard as he pulled the folding tables out of Bulkhead’s cargo. He likely didn't want to know. Scratch that, he was sure he didn’t want to know. He didn’t remember her wearing quite this much makeup or caring nearly as much about her appearance before she’d been introduced to Agent Fowler and the ‘Bots. She’d been fastidious, professional to a fault, and focused only on her work and his future before all this had happened to them. He wondered if they brought this out in her or if it was simply the natural progression of a woman relearning herself as a woman instead of just a mother. He was sort of hoping it was the latter. One secret government agent and/or alien robotic organism was enough for the family, thanks.  
  
He tried to ignore the two younger women who were now stumbling around with arms fulls of streamers and bags of glitter based confetti. It wasn’t exactly an easy task, especially since they were trying to climb Ratchet’s equipment to hang a “It’s a boy!” banner across the terminal. He’d also noticed a wading pool and what had to be an entire store’s worth of jello mix when he’d gone to grab the tables. Raf was in for one hell of a unique birthday.  
  
The tables were barely together with a final click when his mother and Fowler dropped the bags on top of them. She hmmm’d and ignored him as she pawed through their night’s supplies.  
  
“Hey Bill, do you think they have everything?” She called out as she began sitting the items out on the table. “I see chips, dip, steak to throw on the grill Ratchet rigged up, about a dozen pints of Americone Dream, a veggie platter with ranch dip, enough alcohol to drop a blue whale, electrolyte infused water for the morning after...”  
  
Fowler shrugged and dug through the bag nearest to him. “I don’t see the condoms. I know I bought the economy box. Are they in one of your bags?”  
  
“Condoms?!” Jack squeaked in mortification.  
  
Around the same time Miko called out from her perch on the main console, “We brought our own, Ms. D. But hey, thanks for thinking about it.”  
  
“Jackson Darby,” his mom scolded playfully as she reached out to ruffle his hair. “If you’re not old enough to remember that sex makes babies you’re probably not old enough to be at this kind of party. Thank god you’re dating Arcee, I’d probably have grand kids by now if birth control makes you this nervous.”  
  
He huffed and leaned away from her touch. “I am perfectly fine discussing birth control with potential partners. I am not, however, fine discussing my sex life in front of my mother. And you implying that this is going to lead to some bacchanalian orgy is just kind of creepy.”  
  
He heard the tell-tale click and whir of parts rearranging themselves as his shiny bike became his shiny girlfriend. Arcee stretched like a satisfied cat after a long nap in the sun. She gave him a sly smile and a teasing wink as she sauntered towards them. He knew what she was thinking, knew it with every fiber of his being, and he could only hope she had the foresight to not say anything in front of her future mother-in-law.  
  
She bent low to receive a kiss and he obliged her, running a finger across the living metal of her cheek as her surprisingly warm lips pressed to his own. He picked up the heady scent of Cybertronian metal mixed with his musk, his own personal blend of sex and candy. If he ever figured out how to bottle this scent he figured he’d be a millionaire. As it was, the majority of women on campus followed him around with half lidded eyes right after he’d had a romp with his ‘Cee.  
  
“Don’t worry June,” she pulled back with a cat who ate the cream smile. “Jack and I always make sure to use protection.”  
  
June Darby blinked. She looked from her son, to her son’s alien girlfriend, and then back to her son. “Protection? Why would you need protection?”  
  
“As you said, nurse Darby,” Ratchet’s voice called from the doorway where he and Optimus had been lounging for only Primus knew how long. Obviously long enough to catch this part of the discussion. “Sex makes babies. Or did Jack not inform you about hybrids?”  
  
“Wait... you mean she can... with my son... you’re joking, right?” She looked up at the medic hopefully. He shrugged and strode across the room, stopping in front of the stasis unit that held their spiderbot prisoner. He tapped on the enclosure meaningfully.  
  
“They were rare, even in the golden age, but they were not unheard of. As Arcee said, I’ve outfitted both of them with the proper protection to prevent her nanites from trying to mimic organic cells. This should prevent the cohesion that allows for these mixed species offspring,” he rumbled soothingly.  
  
“Okay, for that you kids get to forfeit a case of wine coolers. Momma needs a drink,” she grinned in spite of herself as she grabbed the nearest case of Smirnoff off the table. She twisted the cap with practiced ease and raised the bottle in consideration. “A toast, I suppose. To Raf’s 18th birthday, may he have a wonderful night. And to my son and his girlfriend, may they not give me grand kids before they’re ready.”  
  
Jack grinned and grabbed a bottle off the table, twisting the lid and flicking it towards the trash in a fluid motion. “I’ll drink to that. Though if we’re being honest I am quite enchanted by the idea of a kid who needs a license to drive himself to school.”  
  
“Vroom vroom,” Miko giggled as she grabbed several bottles off the table for herself and Sari. The club mix was still pouring out of Bulkhead, though the Bot in question was now a mech instead of a vehicle, and the two of them seemed to think dancing through life was more a suggestion than a song.  
  
Jack grinned as the green Wrecker leaned over to rummage through a supply cabinet near their energon reserves. The cubes he pulled out were not the normal, cheerful blue of the mid grade they normally fueled with but an icy electric shade that matched the color of Miko’s current lipstick. High grade, and lots of it. Wheeljack had found an untapped natural reserve and Ratchet had discovered a way to cultivate it near their base not unlike an organic garden. It had allowed them to spare some to make the low grade needed for medical treatment and the high grade they had all so long desired.  
  
Arcee’s grin matched his own as she reached around her teammate to grab one of the cubes. A little pre-party party apparently. She tipped it toward Bulkhead like she’d seen Jack tip his bottle toward Miko, the Wrecker repeating the gesture before they both began to sip from their respective cubes. Ratchet looked intrigued and like he might soon ask for some high grade of his own. Optimus just looked as stoic as he ever did.  
  
“Nurse Darby,” the Prime finally spoke, steady and with a careful tone as if he were weighing his every word, “I must once again voice my concern over Rafael’s natal day celebration. While Jack and Miko are of an age to imbibe in alcoholic beverages my research of this area’s law implies that he is not. I would feel remiss in allowing them to contribute to the delinquency of a minor.  
  
“Furthermore I must wonder if our base is the safest location to be holding this celebration. I have become aware that Bulkhead has invited Wheeljack in, and that Bumblebee will be drinking along with the others after he arrives with Rafael. I fear that four overcharged Cybertronians would pose a health hazard to the four drunken humans present,” Optimus rumbled as he eyed those who were already imbibing in their drinks of choice.  
  
“I’ve seen Bulkhead and Wheeljack dance,” Ratchet added, leaning against Optimus. “There is a high probability of someone going squish without them being overcharged.”  
  
June smiled broadly as she walked over to the Autobot leader, patting him good naturedly on the leg. “I understand your concern, Optimus, but an 18th birthday is the milestone into adulthood in our society. It’s something of a tradition to look the other way as long as the drinking is being done under safe circumstances. Jack and Miko will...” She paused as she noticed an already tipsy Miko stirring an industrial sized bowl of jello mixture while whispering conspiratorially with her girlfriend. “Well, Jack will make sure they all stay safe. It’s better they do it in here than out somewhere where the Decepticons might spot them, anyway. I’m sure it will be nothing like what we did when we were younger, right Bill?”  
  
“Right,” Fowler grinned lasciviously as he gave Optimus a playful punch near where June was leaning against him. He winced and shook his hand. “Besides, I have clearance from the brass that says Raf can legally have it. For tonight, anyway. I convinced them it was some Cybertronian right of passage and that it would be seen as culturally insensitive to not allow all of  the human contingent to participate.  
  
“Besides, I’m sure these kids won’t do anything we didn’t do at the last office party. I seem to recall a Major that was talking to his truck like it understood him most of the Halloween party.”  
  
“Was it Major Lennox,” Jack called out from his spot now under the table. He was trying to run extension cords and only managing to tangle himself up. “Because his truck gives me the heebie jeebies, like it’s going to shoot me if I get too close to it.”  
  
June ignored the talk of the decidedly odd Major and his equally creepy truck (June had felt much the same as Jack when she’d first spotted it) in favor of pushing her point. “If Raf has his party here then they will be much less likely to get into the kinds of mischief young adults their age get up to. I remember when I turned nineteen. My sorority sisters thought it would be a great idea to get me a fake ID as a birthday gift. Six hours later and I’m in a bar three states over listening to them as they tried to convince me to get a tattoo on my...”  
  
“Mom!” Jack screeched, bumping his head as he tried to quickly move out from under the table. “I am begging you, begging, that you do not finish that story. No one wants to hear how that story ends and they most certainly do not want to see your tattoo.”  
  
“I should show them just for that little stunt of yours,” June’s smile was soft yet predatory. Jack gulped and backed away.  
  
Above them Ratchet and Optimus were exchanging glances. The Prime’s optics lit up. A split second later Ratchet’s lit up the same shade of blue. As one they nodded and looked down at the human leaning against Optimus’ peds.  
  
“First hand knowledge of the endurance of the human dermal layers could prove useful. Perhaps you'd care to show us some other time, Nurse Darby?” Ratchet’s tone wasn’t entirely professional, a hint of something darker lay underneath the surface.  
  
Optimus nodded as if that was their only concern. Jack knew better. “It could also offer valuable insight into your generation’s culture. I believe I would be more inclined to allow the festivities to take place here if I knew Rafael’s safety was more likely to be secured in these facilities.”  
  
“Seriously,” Jack growled. “She gave you a laundry list of reasons and a tattoo is what caught your attention?”  
  
“Awww,” Miko snickered. “Let the bossbot have a little fun, Jack. Besides, Primes don’t party. I’m sure your mom could show them the tattoo after they drop her back off at her house. Isn’t that right, doc?”  
  
Ratchet looked smug as he leaned forward to place a digit on Jack’s shoulder in what was likely meant to be a comforting manner. “Optimus and I were trying to figure out where we were going to go during your little get together. I can think of much less pleasant company to keep than with your charming mother. Our viewing her tattoo would be strictly for the purposes of science.”  
  
“Science, right,” Jack grumbled as he shrugged the digit away and grabbed another bottle off the table. He had a feeling he was going to need to be a good deal more buzzed than he already was if he was going to make it through the party. Too bad it hadn’t even started yet. already was if he was going to make it through the party. Too bad it hadn’t even started yet.


End file.
